Joined
·
16 Posts
I got bit hard by the biking bug at age 6, as soon as I learned how to ride. I biked everywhere in North Miami. Just about got myself killed a couple times crossing Route 441, but I kept going. Eventually, someone stole my bike, so my uncle got me another one. That got stolen, too. My Mom moved my sister and I to Southern NJ, where I got a Murray BMX bike. I crashed that repeatedly, but I was pretty freaking fast…and then I got bit by the BMX bug at age 15…and I was growing fast…I outgrew everything, and was almost entirely composed of calves. So I needed a new bike.
I didn’t like what I saw in local shops, and my Murray was seemingly made of cast iron, so I decided to build a new bike. I bought a CW Pistol Pete Loncarevich Long Frame and forks set with paper route/lawn mowing/allowance money, and had it sent to my house. Box handlebars. Suntour pedals. I was fast, and got faster. Went to the Deptford Dust Bowl a few times. Didn’t win any races, but learned how to race. Life got in the way - I ended up living with my sister for a bit.
Some bastard stole my CW from the bike rack at high school when I was a senior; they cut the lock off it with bolt cutters. It was okay, I got a car a month later, and my biking time was done.
For about a year.
I won a Peugeot road bike in a video game tournament at the Echelon Mall (no, really).,,and I rode the hell out of that thing - it was absolutely gorgeous. That was my introduction to Presta valves. That was a completely different thing than BMX, but man, I was fast on that bike.
I went off to my second shot at college (I failed out the first time). My Peugeot stayed at my sister’s…and then eventually an oil tank fell on it, and it was no more.
I ended up working for the college and living there…and eventually one of my roommates, Justin, left school very suddenly. He disappeared for about a year, and left his Giant mountain bike with someone else. Eventually, that someone else moved on, the mountain bike ended up with me, and I rode that sucker everywhere on campus. That’s when I fell in love with mountain bikes.
One day, about the time I finished my Master’s, Justin showed up…and wanted his bike back. I was displeased. We worked it out over a few beers. I moved to the New York Metro area and got a PR job in Manhattan. I was in my late 20s, fit, kicking ass, and taking names.
And I wanted a nice bike. So I bought a 1998(?) Cannondale. Absolutely freaking beautiful hardtail, with black/crimson paint that changed color in the sun. I rode that sucker all over the place for a couple years, through Branch Brook Park, through Newark, through Bloomfield…went on the occasional trail when I could.
I was dumb enough to store my Cannondale in the basement of my apartment building, because I has a “saw-proof” lock.
It wasn’t. Someone stole my Cannondale.
I bitched at myself for about a week, then bought a 2001 Specialized Hardrock…I told myself I’d get a nicer bike when I got out of Newark. I rode that bike all that Spring and Summer - in my job, my boss took Tuesdays and Fridays off in the Summer. I’d ride my Specialized to the Newark subway in the morning, take it to Newark Penn Station, and through the WTC, then ride uptown to work. Event season started in mid-September, so I started wearing suits again at that point. The last day I rode my bike in to Manhattan was September 4, 2001. If it had been one week later, I would have left the towers at almost the exact moment the first plane would have hit. I went through Penn Station that day instead, on foot.
I started riding my bike less. My fianceé decided she wanted to ride with me, so I bought her a GT Aggressor for Christmas. She rode it three times. We got married. I changed jobs. We moved to the Poconos.
We had two kids. I changed careers again, and got old and fat. The Specialized and the GT got pushed to the back of the garage.
This past Summer, my 15 year-old son dragged my Specialized out of the back of the garage, oiled it up, took it out, and promptly broke it. He wanted to ride. We hemmed and hawed a bit. I decided to give him the Specialized if he fixed it, and my daughter could have the GT.
And then I went shopping on Amazon, and bought a Mongoose Switchback Trail.
Yes, I know. But if it breaks, I’ll get something better. I’m about a hundred pounds heavier than I was riding that Giant around campus. And I’m about 20 years older than the last time I really rode a trail.
But I'm back.
So what did I miss?
I didn’t like what I saw in local shops, and my Murray was seemingly made of cast iron, so I decided to build a new bike. I bought a CW Pistol Pete Loncarevich Long Frame and forks set with paper route/lawn mowing/allowance money, and had it sent to my house. Box handlebars. Suntour pedals. I was fast, and got faster. Went to the Deptford Dust Bowl a few times. Didn’t win any races, but learned how to race. Life got in the way - I ended up living with my sister for a bit.
Some bastard stole my CW from the bike rack at high school when I was a senior; they cut the lock off it with bolt cutters. It was okay, I got a car a month later, and my biking time was done.
For about a year.
I won a Peugeot road bike in a video game tournament at the Echelon Mall (no, really).,,and I rode the hell out of that thing - it was absolutely gorgeous. That was my introduction to Presta valves. That was a completely different thing than BMX, but man, I was fast on that bike.
I went off to my second shot at college (I failed out the first time). My Peugeot stayed at my sister’s…and then eventually an oil tank fell on it, and it was no more.
I ended up working for the college and living there…and eventually one of my roommates, Justin, left school very suddenly. He disappeared for about a year, and left his Giant mountain bike with someone else. Eventually, that someone else moved on, the mountain bike ended up with me, and I rode that sucker everywhere on campus. That’s when I fell in love with mountain bikes.
One day, about the time I finished my Master’s, Justin showed up…and wanted his bike back. I was displeased. We worked it out over a few beers. I moved to the New York Metro area and got a PR job in Manhattan. I was in my late 20s, fit, kicking ass, and taking names.
And I wanted a nice bike. So I bought a 1998(?) Cannondale. Absolutely freaking beautiful hardtail, with black/crimson paint that changed color in the sun. I rode that sucker all over the place for a couple years, through Branch Brook Park, through Newark, through Bloomfield…went on the occasional trail when I could.
I was dumb enough to store my Cannondale in the basement of my apartment building, because I has a “saw-proof” lock.
It wasn’t. Someone stole my Cannondale.
I bitched at myself for about a week, then bought a 2001 Specialized Hardrock…I told myself I’d get a nicer bike when I got out of Newark. I rode that bike all that Spring and Summer - in my job, my boss took Tuesdays and Fridays off in the Summer. I’d ride my Specialized to the Newark subway in the morning, take it to Newark Penn Station, and through the WTC, then ride uptown to work. Event season started in mid-September, so I started wearing suits again at that point. The last day I rode my bike in to Manhattan was September 4, 2001. If it had been one week later, I would have left the towers at almost the exact moment the first plane would have hit. I went through Penn Station that day instead, on foot.
I started riding my bike less. My fianceé decided she wanted to ride with me, so I bought her a GT Aggressor for Christmas. She rode it three times. We got married. I changed jobs. We moved to the Poconos.
We had two kids. I changed careers again, and got old and fat. The Specialized and the GT got pushed to the back of the garage.
This past Summer, my 15 year-old son dragged my Specialized out of the back of the garage, oiled it up, took it out, and promptly broke it. He wanted to ride. We hemmed and hawed a bit. I decided to give him the Specialized if he fixed it, and my daughter could have the GT.
And then I went shopping on Amazon, and bought a Mongoose Switchback Trail.
Yes, I know. But if it breaks, I’ll get something better. I’m about a hundred pounds heavier than I was riding that Giant around campus. And I’m about 20 years older than the last time I really rode a trail.
But I'm back.
So what did I miss?
